Let me help you
by LEfan77
Summary: Huddy smutty one-shot


Well guys, this is my first attempt, so be gentle with me...  
This is set at the start of s6, House is out of Mayfield, clean and back at PPTH.  
Lucas doesn't exist (shame)...  
It's just a smutty one shot, I do have a few ideas for longer stories but I just thought I'd test the waters with this one first.

I don't own house, Cuddy or anything else other than this little story I've come up with.

_**'LET ME HELP YOU'  
**_  
It was 6.30pm by the time she'd noticed he'd dodged, AGAIN! She was fuming... Why couldn't he just do his job properly and in FULL, just for once?

Cuddy was tired, it had been a ridiculous week, crammed to the rafters with audits, reports, a recruitment drive and babysitting House's programme to get his medical licence back.

As usual, he had been a royal pain in the ass since he'd come back, she wasn't sure why she had expected anything else... Actually, secretly, she was overjoyed he was still "House", she had been worried sick he'd come back a different person, she couldn't imagine him drug-free AND he'd had a pretty explosive breakdown, she really hadn't known what to expect. BUT, right now, she wished he'd had come back with an ounce of responsibility, a molecule of consideration, even just a smidgen of thought, but no, he was same old House!

The crucial report on House's progress, the one that would basically make or break his licence application, had to be in by 7am tomorrow morning and it was missing one vital declaration and signature... House's.  
Everyone had jumped through hoops for him, colleagues and professionals involved in the case had submitted references, reports and findings!  
All he had to do was read (or pretend to read) and sign the damn thing, yet the selfish ass couldn't even be bothered doing that! So as usual, Cuddy was left worrying about it and sorting it out on her own time, after hours, when she should be at home with her daughter.

Rachel had been a bit off lately, nothing she could put her finger on, just a bit more clingy and whiney than normal, which made the fact that she'd had to call the sitter, pay her extra (and use up another favour that would almost certainly have come in handy another time) even more infuriating!

So here she was, parked up outside Wilson's apartment, paperwork in hand, fury evident in her face, her walk, her entire attitude. She stormed up to the door and banged hard... Nothing, she banged again. She can hear the TV murmuring softly in the background so she's pretty sure he's in.

When she had approached Wilson an hour earlier at the hospital hoping to find House still on site, Wilson had confirmed he'd left for the day, but was pretty certain he would be at home as he didn't have any cookery classes or anything else planned for tonight. As Wilson explained he was going to stay late to be with a patient who was certain to pass away in the next couple of hours, he wished Cuddy good luck!

After the third knock, the door swung open. An angry looking House glared at Cuddy through red-rimmed eyes. His face was full of fury, enough to match her own. She paled, immediately thought the worst. What was wrong? What had he done? A million questions flew through cuddy's mind in a second as House turned and walked away from the open door and an open-mouthed Cuddy!

"House"? Cuddy barely whispered as she followed him, allowing the door to close behind her. She followed him into the living area where he was already slumped back down on the sofa furiously rubbing his damaged thigh.

"What the hell is so important that you had to keep banging when it was obvious I wasn't going to answer? Can't you take no for an answer, damn it, what the hell do you want?"

Cuddy was taken aback. In the few times she'd seen House since his return, he'd seemed fine. He was in control, obviously clean, maybe even a little bit more polite than normal (which could have been explained away as embarrassment in front of Cuddy over the whole "shouting from the balcony" debacle). Whichever, he'd seemed pretty normal, she certainly hadn't seen him as was in front of her now... Tetchy, shaky, sweaty, angry, furious! Just the sight of it frightened her.

She approached the sofa, kneeled down in front of him so she wasn't looking down on him and reached out her hand to his forehead. It was clammy; he instantly took hold of her wrist, roughly, and pushed it away.

"What happened, House?"

He looked at her for the first time since he walked away from the door. His stare was intense, piercing and it held in it a sneer that was packed with malice.

"What happened? I lost a chunk out of my fucking LEG"! He practically spat the words at her.

"Yes, but I mean what's going on now? What's wrong?"

He started shouting now, furious, shaking with rage "are you fucking insane woman? I know you haven't been a REAL doctor in a long time but even an idiot can see I'm in pain"!

She moved back slightly, not much but he caught it, looked down, he knew it wasn't her fault, but it just hurt so much.

It hit her, he was suffering because he wasn't on vicodin, the pain was as bad but he only had ibuprofen. She hadn't given it a thought, she naively believed he'd come back, all cured, yet he had a constant daily battle and with days like this she knew that using again was always going to be a risk, a BIG risk.

"House, I'm sorry, do you have your ibuprofen?"

"I've taken today's allowance, not that they do anything for me anyway" he panted through gritted teeth, avoiding eye contact.

He had visibly softened now, he was still clammy and in pain but he had realised the anger wasn't helping his pain, it was making it worse.

She moved forward to where she was before. She took his hand. He looked from his hand to her face, confused, hating to see the sympathy in her gaze. He shifted, uneasy, took his hand back, she spoke.

"House, I didn't realise, I'm so sorry. I want you to know, you're doing great, I'm so proud of you", he looked at her again hearing the sincerity in her voice, unable to pull his gaze away from her beautiful eyes, then scanning her face, looking down at her lips moving with the words.

Then suddenly another crippling attack of White heat seared through his thigh, forcing him forward, knocking her back. He is frantically rubbing his leg as she gets up from her toppled position on the floor, straightening herself up and choosing to sit next to him on the sofa instead of kneeling on the floor in the firing line, the whole time he's doubled up, struggling, sweating and the fear and anger is back,

"Stop fucking apologising, you've done nothing, it's my problem, my pain, I don't need your pleasantries, get your hands off me and go away",

Cuddy does nothing of the sort, in fact she moves closer, rubbing his back, looking at him with fear and anxiety and wishing she could do something, ANYTHING to take away the pain he is feeling!

"What can I do? Tell me, House, let me help you!"

He can't even respond now, he is tensed against the pain, grimacing as he tries in vain to massage the pain away. Cuddy is feeling helpless, guilty and stupid. She can't believe she hadn't realised he'd been suffering like this, alone! The guilt is consuming her, she failed him during the hallucinations and breakdown, and she was failing again now! She reached over, replaced his hand with her own and began to massage the offending area. He looked at her, sneering, he spoke in an aggressive manner, "get your hands off me, Cuddy, do you really think that will help? Do you think you can do that better than me? What are you hoping to fucking achieve here?", she turns and answers him, full of pain herself at seeing him like this, shouting back in desperation at her own helplessness, "I'm trying to help you, let me HELP YOU, what do you need? Shall I run you a bath?"

The tension is unbearable now, the pain and fear bringing out House's nastiest attributes, he sneers, looking directly into her eyes with disgust and disdain, "Why? Are you gonna get in there with me, Cuddy?" Her eyes flash with a mixture of shame and confusion, "wh...what? No, no, I..."  
His gaze is unwavering on her "you come here, file in fucking hand, thinking you've got all the answers", he is nasty, the worst she's seen him since he was high, yet she holds her position, refusing to look away, allowing him his fury and attack, "you wanna help? You wanna know what will help me, Cuddy? Touch me!"

In an instant her hand is on his thigh once again, more confusion enveloping her "But I thought you said...",  
"not like that, you moron, if that's all you've got get the hell out of here..."

She's taken aback, her face contorted with shock and pity and realisation and regret, "House, I...", he cuts her off before she can finish her clumsy refusal, "don't bother, close the door on your way out".

His body turns away from her, his breathing is steadying ever such a little after his outburst, he is focusing on the piano, not wanting to look at her face, not wanting to read the emotions evident there. The silence is crashing down on both of them. He can't think, why the hell is she still sat there, why hasn't she legged it? Why hasn't she slapped him round the face and accused him of being a pervert?

Cuddy was stunned, sat there in the same confining silence, watching the back of his head, wondering what he was thinking. Was he really asking what she thought he was? Was he really that desperate for a release from the pain? "House...",  
"I'm Sorry, Cuddy. The pain is unbearable, I just need a... distraction..." he trails off.  
"Have you taken all your available pain relief tonight?"  
"YESSS"  
"have you tried the physical therapy techniques you..."  
"YES, damn it; I'm not a moron, yes, yes and fucking yes! I'm in PAIN!

In that moment, before he had even finished speaking, Cuddy's hands were back on his thigh, rubbing the area around the painful scar. He looks back at her, just for a second, just to make sure that the sensations of what he's feeling really do match up with the reality of what he sees with his own eyes, it does! She really is still sat next to him, on the sofa, her hands on his right thigh.

Her gaze is focused on his leg, not wanting to look up and make eye contact with him. She's embarrassed and yet she has already made the decision that she will do whatever he needs. She wants nothing more than to bring some relief to the torturous pain he is experiencing.

He has turned away again, he has relaxed back against the sofa but he can't look at her as her hands have slowly moved away from the scar, she is now massaging his entire upper leg. She takes her hands away for a split second and when they return they are on his left thigh. Her touch is feminine and delicate yet also firm and determined.

She is getting a bit more into it, now. She's still extremely embarrassed but the way he has relaxed back into the sofa, the way his legs have fallen into a more natural position, the way his breathing has settled down from the pain then began to speed up again for a whole different reason, all these things are spurring her on. She feels in control, she feels empowered and she feels... Excited? Really? Her mind begins to spin, his heavy breathing, his strong left leg under her palms, the way the pain has left his face. His face, she's watching him now, head back, eyes closed, she can't deny, she's enjoying this. She never thought she would ever actually find herself in this position. Sure, she's had certain 'thoughts' about House. When she found out about the hallucinations she was more than flattered. When she was alone in her own room at night her thoughts often drifted to those hallucinations. She wanted to know what happened; she wanted him to tell her exactly what they consisted of. She thought of all different scenarios but in each one there was a common theme... The sex was outstanding!

House couldn't think straight, her perfect hands were roaming his upper thighs, when she was touching his left leg she had to reach over, her amazing skirt hitching up as she moves, her pretty little blouse gaping allowing him a sneaky peak down there, her breasts occasionally brushing his exposed arm as she changes positions. He loves every minute, pushing away any nagging doubts about awkwardness afterwards, refusing to acknowledge that this may be a mistake. Instead, he is taking in every last detail, storing it away to remember at any time he chooses, listening to her soft breath and it's increasing tempo. It may have been because of the physical exertion, it may have been because she was turned on, either way he listened and smelled her and felt her soft hair falling onto his arm as she reached further still.

There was a significant bulge in the untouched zipper area of House's jeans. She couldn't stop now, she'd committed, and she'd gone too far. So she moved, in one fluid motion, from his upper right thigh to the zipper. He let out a groan, deep and lust-filled as she skimmed, feather-light over his denim-covered cock. She looks at him, he opens his eyes and looks at her straight, she still has her hand placed on his cock, stilled now but laying heavy. The gaze is serious; the weight of the situation playing clearly on their faces, their panting is loud in both their ears.

Then Cuddy smirks, the cheekiest, sexiest smile House has ever seen. The tension evaporates, House smirks back and thrusts up against Cuddy's palm. She lets out a noise, a mixture of shock at his action, humour and lust. She immediately responds by pressing harder on his cock. Her right hand teasing the mountain in his pants.

She moves forward, he thinks she is going to kiss him but she moves to his neck, the right side nearest her. She bites, licks and sucks on his skin there. He moans again and thrusts unintentionally. The move to his neck is a calculated one, it eliminates his ability to look at her, it masks her as she uses her right hand to open his button, push down the zip and free him from his constraints. Between them they manage to get his underwear and jeans far enough down his legs that she can now freely touch him; all the while her face is buried in his neck.

Once that is done, Cuddy leans her forehead on House's neck and looks down, just checking everything is as it should be, and it is! She returns her hot mouth to his neck, kissing and nipping while her right hand returns to the top of his right thigh, edges up toward his groin and cups his balls.

"Shit, Cuddy", he groans deeply.

She has a good massage there for a minute or two then moves up his shaft until she reaches the top. She runs her hand over the head, smearing the pre-cum over her palms then covers his cock in the lubricant.

He is VERY hard, if he could care enough he would be embarrassed at how hard he was so soon, but thinking straight wasn't an option. Not only was she creating the most fabulous sensation on his neck with her kisses and sucks there, she was actually wanking him off. Her hand moving up and down now in a steady, firm rhythm. Where she was leaning on him to get to his neck, he could feel her breasts against his right arm. He reaches up with his left arm, tentatively, he doesn't want to spook her and risk her stopping this. He reaches over, testing the waters and places his left hand on her hip. Not a blink, so he pushes it a bit further and edges his hand under her White blouse, feeling the soft, taught skin there.

Cuddy whimpers ever so slightly at the contact with her tummy. It feels nice, to be honest she would rather he touched her or did something while she continued getting him off with her hand, it made it all feel a little more normal, less of a hooker-client situation! So when House pushes his luck further and moves his hand up inside her blouse even more, she finds herself adjusting her position on him so that he can comfortably cup her breast through her bra.

"You're a fucking Goddess, Cuddy"!

The combination of his compliment and the feel of his big rough hand on her right breast had her upping her pace. She was picking up speed and House's breathless panting verified this. He was close now, really close. She slowed down just a bit and ran her hand all over his cock and back down to his balls. Her arm was aching now; she needed to rest it for just a second. He used this respite to fondle her breast more, pinching her hard nipple through the black lace. She was making soft 'ah' sounds, breathing hot breaths against his neck.

After a couple of seconds she has hold of him again, her pace is fast and steady and it's not long before House is panting hard, his balls tightening and his cock hardening to it's limit.

He lets out a deep moan as he cums all over Cuddy's hand and his own abdomen. Cuddy keeps hold of him and continues to move up and down at a much slower and softer pace before coming to a stop. She is looking up at him from beside his neck and he has to move his head over to the left in order to be able to look at her face. He leans down and gives her a chaste, soft kiss on her closed mouth and removes his hand from up her blouse. He starts to get up.

"Wait", she says softly, "I'll go", she let's go of his soft cock and gets up and goes to the bathroom. He hears her washing her hands then returns quickly with the roll of tissue. She passes it to him, turns away to give him some privacy to clean up while she looks for a pen in her bag, picking up the report that had been discarded on the floor. When she turns back around she sees House, now fully dressed, heading for the bathroom. She takes a minute to take in what just happened, she can't quite believe she just did that, but also she can't help but smile.

As the bathroom door opens, Cuddy has regained her poker face and turns to House,

"Could you sign this, it has to be in tomorrow",

He takes the pen and paper and signs messily, not bothering to find anything to lean on. Cuddy rolls her eyes and speaks "you breathe a word of this to ANYONE and you'll be back in Mayfield quicker than you can say "my boss has my balls", got it?",

House smirks at her wit.

"And you may as well stock up on ibuprofen cos THIS pain relief was strictly a one-off",

House smirks again as he slumps back down on the sofa, watching her as she gathers her bag and keys. She heads towards the door behind him and he shouts back without looking,

"I absolutely agree, Cuddy, next time we should probably get dinner first".

He doesn't see her smile as she pulls the front door shut behind her, but he's sure it's there.

The end


End file.
